


Observations of a Quiet Man

by lamentomori



Category: Professional Wrestling, 新日本プロレス | New Japan Pro-Wrestling
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-16
Updated: 2018-02-16
Packaged: 2019-03-19 12:52:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13704855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lamentomori/pseuds/lamentomori
Summary: Sanada can't sleep. He sees something he shouldn't, something sweeter than he was expecting. He observes, considers, and gives his approval to the situation in less than forty words.





	Observations of a Quiet Man

One room between five is a bad idea. They’re cheap though. Wrestlers are cheap, and they are wrestlers. So, one room, five men, two beds, and a couch. Hiro’ll take the couch, because he’s small, and tosses and turns and spends half the night awake. Bushi will share a bed with Evil, because Buhsi is next in line of smallness, and Evil is _big_ , and they both sleep like the dead. Which leaves him and Naito sharing. Naito sleeps like a cat, still and quiet, either for a long time or for a few moments. He’s known Naito a long time, and he’s always been that way, so it's fine. Sanada usually sleeps well, but tonight his mind is unsettled.

Five matches. Three title matches. Two victories. Three defeats. One beat down. One breakdown. He’s not sure which was worse. Naito’s flippant apathy to being attacked by Taichi, or Hiro lying curled up on the floor, staring at nothing. Evil handled losing well. He’d looked annoyed, showered, and then sat on the bench near Hiromu’s head occasionally petting his hair, at least that’s what Bushi told Sanada. He’d been busy being beaten by Okada. A good showing, but a defeat all the same. The only one left of them to challenge Okada for his belt is Evil. It’d be interesting to see if he could succeed where so many have failed.

It’d be more interesting if he’d stop snoring. It’s not loud, but it’s audible over the hum of the air conditioner. It’s cold outside, but one room, five men. It’s warm in here. It’s also keeping Hiro awake, or Hiro might be keeping himself awake. The light from his phone is turned low, but he can still see it. From where he’s lying, if he turns his head just a little, he can see Hiro, curled on his side, his phone lighting his face oddly. He looks so young and so tired. He really should be asleep. He’ll regret it in the morning if he doesn’t get some rest now. Naito’ll be pissed at him if he falls asleep at the gym, or in the middle of an interview, or something equally inappropriate. Beside him, Naito stirs, shifting in the bed. Sanada lies still, not wanting to disturb Naito.

“Go to sleep, Hiro.” Naito’s voice is low and rough, pitched to not wake the sleeping.

“I can’t.” Hiro snorts dismissively. He straightens his legs out, Sanada can tell from the sounds of fabric on fabric, and the way the shape of his body under the blanket changes. Naito sighs. For a moment there’s a still silence. Hiro staring at his phone, Sanada staring at Hiro, Naito behind him, hopefully back asleep. The bed creaks when Naito gets out of it. His body blocks Sanada’s view of Hiro.

“Go to sleep.” Naito drops to his knees quietly. One of his hands is raised as though touching Hiro, his body still keeping Sanada from seeing what’s happening.

“I _can’t_.” Hiro’s not quite whining, but it’s close. Naito’s other hand rises, and his head lowers. There are no sounds for what feels like a long time. It’s seconds really, a minute at most. Naito pulls his head back, Hiro shifts, Naito shakes his head.

“It’s too narrow.” His head bows again, the slight sound of a peck of a kiss.

“Squash me.” Hiro is whining, quiet and soft, but unmistakably whining.

“You won’t sleep flattened, Hiro.” Naito sits on his ass, his legs crossed, by the position of his head, his cheek has to be resting on Hiro’s pillow.

“I won’t sleep anyway.” Hiro’s hand is carding through Naito’s hair. His voice buttery soft, trying to entice Naito into giving in to his desires.

“I’ll stay till you’re asleep.” Naito’s plucked Hiro’s phone from him, and sets it on the floor. “Tomorrow, I’ll get us a room.”

“I’ll sleep on the bus.” Hiro shifts. The amount of movement leads Sanada to think he’s turned his back on Naito. “Gimme my phone, and go back to bed.” Naito sighs. He stands up. Sanada hopes he looks asleep. He hopes his one cracked open eyes isn’t obvious. Thankfully, the room is dark, and Naito’s posture gives away how tired he is. He’s not looking at anyone but Hiromu.

“I can’t sleep either.” He bends over, his lips probably by Hiro’s ear. Hiro shifts more, Naito awkwardly gets on the couch behind him.

“We should have gotten two rooms like I said.” Hiro shifts again. Sanada can’t _see_ that it’s Hiro, but Naito’s not moved so it must have been him turning in Naito’s arms.

“We agreed this wouldn’t cause any problems.” Naito sounds harsh. This is an old argument by his tone. How long has this been going on, how long have they been sharing couches and quiet kisses whilst everyone else slept. Does it matter.

“It’s not for me.” Hiro’s voice has taken on that sing-song quality he gets when he’s riled up, and wants a fight. “You’re the one who’s creeping out of bed, sneaking kisses-” Hiro’s cut off, with a tiny muffled sound. Naito is sneaking a kiss.  

“Tomorrow, Hiromu.” Naito shifts. In the dark, Sanada can see what look like Hiro’s hand on Naito’s back, clutching at the fabric of the shirt he’s wearing. Sanada stares at Hiro’s hand until his eyes fall closed, and sleep comes for him.

The morning comes. Naito is in bed fast sleep beside Sanada. The couch is empty. Hiro is always up first. He walks in the morning. Sometimes, he gets lost. Sometimes, he brings back coffee. Mostly, he comes back and tucks his sketchbook back into his bag without letting anyone see it. Sanada doesn’t think the pictures they get to see are the true fruits of Hiro’s artistic endeavours. He spends an awful long time making such terrible pictures. He’d like to see inside the sketchbook, but it’s private. He respects Hiro enough to let him have his privacy in most matters. Evil is still snoring. Bushi is leaving the bathroom in a mist of steam, dressed, and unmasked. He raises an eyebrow when he notices Sanada’s awakes.

“Up early this morning, Seiya?” There’s a towel on his head as he dries his hair. He looks like a less unsettling version of Suzuki. He nods rather than answers, and gets out of bed. Naito doesn’t move. Sanada suspects he’s not asleep. Naito sleeps strangely after all. “Bathroom’s free if you need it.” Bushi heads for his bag. Sanada goes to the bathroom, gets dressed, and decides he may as well go to the gym.

The hotel has a pretty garden. He’d not seen it when he’d arrived last night. Pretty, but covered in snow. The snow is full of tracks. Some big, some small. He can't tell what animal made any of them. He’s on a running machine, which means his mind is wandering. Hiro likes running machines. He told Sanada once he liked them because they let him clear his mind. Sanada dislikes them for the opposite reason. He has nothing to focus on but his feet. His mind roams. Naito is in the garden. He’s bundled up in a thick coat, hat, scarf, and gloves. He can’t see Sanada; the gym’s windows are one way. Naito looks annoyed, checking his phone, scowling at anyone who comes too close. Hiro arrives maybe a minute after Sanada spotted Naito. He’s wearing too little for the weather. Naito says something that looks annoyed. Hiro laughs. Naito looks away. He unwraps his scarf from around his neck, and winds it around Hiro’s. He kisses Hiro once he’s content with the knot. From this distance, it looks like it was a nice kiss. Hiro’s smiling when Naito pulls away. Naito pets his hair, and pulls Hiro in close. Sanada wonders again how long he’s missed this. They seem very content with each other. Naito kisses Hiro again. Hiro’s hand is clenched in the fabric of Naito’s coat when they part.

All day, there are no clues to what he saw late last night or early this morning. All day it is as it always is. Five together. Five not against the world, but not for it either. Normal. Nothing to suggest that late at night, or early in the morning, Naito and Hiro kiss. It might be more than that. Naito does have a hard time looking away from Hiro. Rather like his terrible sleep, Naito has always had to force himself to look away from Hiro. Even when Hiro wasn’t what he is now. When he’d first seen Hiro, he’d been young. He’d seemed not yet fully formed. Naito had said he had potential. Naito had been right. Hiro grew up. He grew into a decent wrestler. He grew into himself. If Sanada had to fuck another man, he’d fuck Hiro. He’s pretty. All hair, eyes, and the sort of lips designed to wrap around a cock. Maybe that was the potential Naito had seen. Maybe it’s none of Sanada’s business.

That night the hotel they’re in only has one room for them. Five men. One room. One bed. Two cots. One couch. Hiro dumps his bag, takes his sketchbook, and leaves. Naito watches him, staring at the door long after Hiro’s gone. If you didn’t know Naito, his face would be blank. Sanada knows Naito.

“We’ll draw lots on who gets what.” Sanada tells him. Naito has known Sanada as long as Sanada has known Naito. He doesn’t speak unless there’s a reason. Sanada jerks his chin towards the door. Naito claps his shoulder on the way past. Bushi looks at him. Sanada shrugs. Evil has claimed a cot.

“I’m sure Hiro won’t mind me taking the couch.” Bushi lifts Hiro’s bag from it. “He can share with you or Naito. I want some space for a change.” The couch is wider, but shorter than the cots. Sanada claims the last cot. Unlike the couch and the other cot, this one is parallel to the bed.

“Perhaps in a bed Hiro will sleep.” Sanada is lying down. He can’t see Evil, but he hears him. There’s concern in his tone. Evil has known Hiro the longest. Only by months, but the longest. Hiro draws concern from the coldest of people.

“Hopefully I’ll sleep without you to cuddle.” Bushi laughs. Sanada can hear Bushi moving around. He doesn’t look. It’s not that he doesn’t care, it just doesn’t concern him. Bushi can tease Evil all he likes. Just leave Sanada out of it.

Hiro and Naito come back together. Hiro seems surprised to be getting the bed. He launches himself enthusiastically at it. Naito would look blank if you didn’t know him. His stare hasn’t moved from where Hiromu is stretched out on the bed, his eyes half-lidded. Sanada feels what could be sympathy. Naito and Hiro have had sex. He can tell. Naito’s eyes dance over Hiro, focussing on where his shirt has ridden up, to his eyes, lingering over his lips. It’s the look of a man familiar with the body in front of him. Familiar and achingly fond. Naito licks his lips, and turns to look at _anything_ but Hiro. He locks eyes with Sanada. Sanada glances over at Hiro, still flat on his back, legs akimbo, his hands behind his head. Naito would look blank if you didn’t know him. Sanada knows him. He’s seen that look before. He nods. Naito’s stare takes a grateful turn.

“Move. You’re not sleeping in the middle.” Naito tells Hiro without looking at him. Hiro sits up. A conversation starts between the others. Sanada has nothing to add really. He lies back down, and closes his eyes.  

Sanada wakes to darkness. In the dark he can just see Hiro’s face. His eyes are closed, his lips parted, but curved into a pleased smile. Behind him Sanada can see Naito’s hair. He’s talking too quietly. He can’t hear what Naito’s saying, but he can see the effect on Hiro. His bottom lip is caught between his teeth.

“Tomorrow.” Hiro whispers. Naito kisses his temple.

“Tomorrow.” He agrees. Hiro turns in Naito’s arms. Naito holds him close. A hand on the back of Hiro’s head, fingers tangled in his hair. Naito turns, pulling Hiro with him, letting him settle half on top of Naito. Sanada closes his eyes. This is none of his business.

It’s neither a surprise, nor a shock to see both Naito and Hiro gone in the morning. He’d expected it. He’d be more surprised if Naito had stayed in bed without Hiro. He’d slept badly. Every hour, or so, he’d found his eyes opening to stare at Hiro and Naito. Not once did either move. Naito held Hiro close all night. The ceiling is interrupted by Hiro’s grinning face. He’s holding a paper cup of coffee, and a paper bag.

“C’mon. Wakey-wakey.” He seems in fine spirits. Sanada sits up, and takes the coffee and bag from Hiro, who sits on the end of his cot. “You looking forward to going home for a few days?” He asks. Sanada nods, sipping at his coffee, and looking for the others. They aren’t there. It’s not often it’s just him and Hiro. Now that he thinks on it, it's not often Hiro without Naito. Naito keeps him close.

“Hiro?” The entirety of Hiro’s attention is difficult to bear. He was such a nervous young lion. He grew up so intense. It’s hard not to wonder how much of that is due to Naito. For all he is the embodiment of apathy, Naito is _intense._

“What?” Hiro’s picking apart what was once a doughnut, but is now sticky segments. He licks the frosting from his fingers slowly, and Sanada drains his coffee. In his bag is a bagel. His preferred bakery breakfast. He’s not sure what. He’d said Hiro’s name without ever really having a reason for it.

“What’s in your book?” Hiro clearly didn’t expect that question. He looks bewildered as he stares at Sanada. “The book you take out with you in the morning.” Hiro stares at him. Sanada stares back. He’s known Naito for a long time. He knows how to deal with unblinking stares. Hiro leans over and plucks his sketchbook from the bed.

“Here. Have a look.” He hands it to Sanada, and stuffs a segment of doughnut into his mouth. He has an impressive sweet tooth. Naito doesn’t. He wonders if Naito is sweeter than he seems, and if Hiro is more savoury. The first page is blank. The second has a drawing of a park. It’s good. Delicate lines, careful shading, it’s been drawn by a practiced hand. The next page is a sketch of a locker room. It has to have been done from memory, because Sanada can’t recall seeing Hiro sitting drawing in a locker room before. The book is full of random drawing of random places and people, many he recognises. The last picture is a drawing of Naito from an odd angle. It looks like he was probably sleeping with his head in Hiro’s lap.

“You’re good.” Sanada can’t quite marry the image of Naito to the man he knows. Naito sleeps so strangely, yet in this picture he looks content. Hiro shrugs and tosses the book back on the bed. Silence falls over them. Hiro isn’t often silent. He may not be loud, but his is rarely silent. Sanada looks over at him. He’s staring at the bed. “How long?” The corner of Hiro’s mouth quirks up in a half smile.

“Years.” He laughs softly. “Before my excursion.” Before Hiro was _Hiro_. Naito truly saw the potential in him, and made sure no-one else could have him. “How long?” Hiro asks the question lightly, like it’s nothing. Sanada thinks it is nothing. They’re just going to have to let Naito and Hiro share a bed from now on.

“The other night… Okada did a number on me.” Hiro nods. He’ll have had to deal with Naito after Okada doing numbers on him too. “He’s not… Naito… he isn’t very…” Words aren’t his strong point. He wants to make sure Naito is careful with Hiro. Hiro is small. He may be sturdily built, and solid looking, but his heart is delicate. Naito isn’t careful. With Naito every problem can be handled with a hammer. With Hiro sometimes a breath is all that’s needed to get him back on course. Hiro glances over at Sanada. Something must be showing on his face, because Hiro laughs softly. He pulls his phone from his pocket.

“He used to write me pep talks, back when I was still in the dojo. All the things he couldn’t say, or didn’t want to, or whatever. He’d pin them inside my jacket when I was in the shower.” Hiro hands Sanada his phone. “He texts them now.” Long texts. Lots of longs messages. Each one a different encouragement, a different concern, a different endearment. Sanada nods. He hands the phone back over.

“Get two rooms from now on.” He ruffles Hiro’s hair. He won’t tell him why they should get two rooms. Hiro would only be too dramatic, and Naito would kill him. He’s known Naito a long time. He knows how protective over his little protégé he is.


End file.
